


fake palindromes

by unveils



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:19:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6865831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unveils/pseuds/unveils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you remember your mother, Leo?” </p><p>He meets Corrin’s blissfully ignorant gaze with a practiced smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fake palindromes

**Author's Note:**

> i always thought the moms of the individual nohr sibs could've been touched on more >:

He remembers his mother for the way she held herself -- poised and graceful, delicate hands gripping just firm enough to keep an unholy white from bleeding into her knuckles. He remembers his mother for the way she'd brush a pale shade of pink over the breadth of her lips in their shared quarters, her golden curls falling in cascades down her back. 

He remembers her for the way she was beautiful -- effortlessly so, dancing around the court in a flourish of chiffon and lace, her hand holding tight to his own. He remembers her for her grins and curtsies, for the way he was to be paraded amongst the lords and ladies as something to be remembered (“A gift from the Gods themselves,” she’d whispered to him, just out of view of the king, hands gripping the hollowed curves of his cheeks. “Don’t forget.”). Nothing momentary, like the brief romance she'd shared with the king.

He remembers every detail, every lesson she never taught him. Flaws are to be hidden, control is to be taken, feelings are nonsensical and can often be explained away.

And always, always --

(You are a trophy -- a prince, before you are my son.)

Remember the purpose you were born for. 

 

x

 

The first time he picks a powder brush to dust away the dark of bags of his eyes, he remembers his mother. He tells himself it has nothing to do with her at all, with the way she’d been banished from court by the king himself days prior. 

He whispers strings of truths to himself to barrier this idea -- undeniable facts he's plucked from books and made into his own -- even as he picks up another brush (a soft pink, left behind, pulled over the pointed curve of his lips) and finds comfort in the familiar movements reflected in the mirror.

 

x

 

(Here is a fact: there is always a beginning. Monuments are not built without carefully laid foundations.)

 

x

 

“Do you remember your mother, Leo?” 

He meets Corrin’s blissfully ignorant gaze with a practiced smile.

“It hardly matters.”

(He remembers. In veiled flaws, in ruthless determination, in every word he speaks.)

"I have all of you, now."


End file.
